


A Little's Enough

by embracethe



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - College/University, Amputee Eren Yeager, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bottom Jean Kirstein, Caregiver/little, College Student Eren Yeager, College Student Jean Kirstein, Comfort/Angst, Consensual Kink, Diapers, Disabled Character, Disabled Jean Kirstein, Dorms, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omorashi, Past Abuse, Physical Disability, Top Eren Yeager, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embracethe/pseuds/embracethe
Summary: Jean transfers to a new university and finds fitting in difficult—which says a lot because the disability-friendly dorm floor is pretty unconventional to begin with. With time, he and Eren will form a bond. Eren just needs to find a way to get through to Jean. As it'll turn out, some long-needed affection might help Jean feel at ease in his own skin for the first time.





	1. Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully from the tags it's pretty clear where this is going; please read responsibly.

Jean cursed under his breath as he limped back to his dorm. It was the first week of classes and a shiny, bright September afternoon. Clumps of students were talking and laughing on the quad, and several students zoomed past Jean on their bikes. Jean was a transfer student from junior college and still didn’t know how to deal with the long trek to and from classes at his now much larger university. He’d been too lazy thus far to arrange transportation with the disability support van. That was certainly going to change.

Jean felt the stares on his back. And his front. And his sides. Others’ gazes were following him as they always did. His gait was extremely labored and always caused him to lean over to one side. He didn’t walk normally, of course. Each step was a bit of a struggle (especially after a long day), and he moved across the cobblestone and brick paths of the elegant university grounds much too slowly for the liking of his fellow students. Jean suspected he probably made most of them uncomfortable. 

His lean body was just a little off in a way that was hard to explain. His muscles were too rebellious to move properly and his right side experienced a bit more paralysis than his left. He stumbled along and felt his “dead” right arm sway from his shoulder and saw it go in and out of view in front of him.

He kept his right arm in a sling most of the time for convenience and to avoid further scandalizing his classmates with its appearance. The arm, being unusable from a young age, was withered, much too small for Jean’s body, and intractably curled up; his right hand was permanently fisted closed. 

When Jean couldn’t bear the walk anymore, his muscles spasming and demanding he take a break, he collapsed against the wall of a building in a shady courtyard. He sank right to the ground, not being able to make it to the nearest bench. He breathed heavily, thankful for the shade and the respite.

Quite enjoying his break (thank you), Jean was not pleased to see the person he now recognized wheeling towards him. It took Jean’s exhausted brain a moment to piece together what he was seeing because, over the last week, he was used to seeing the other boy standing upright, not in a wheelchair. But here he was, Eren Jaeger, looking like he was intent on talking to Jean. For what reason, Jean couldn’t fathom. Jean had honestly done his best to avoid his new RA so far. Eren was pushy with his friendliness, and he always looked like he was having way too much fun with their other dormmates. There were only a few freshmen and transfers on their floor—Jean included—and it seemed like everyone else had already formed a tight-knit family. Jean felt like an outsider, but, really, what else was new?

Eren was clearly the leader of their floor with everyone always calling out to him to join their table for dinner, study with them, go to the gym, or hang out in their rooms. Eren seemed to have the campus eating out of the palm of his hand. Students all over, not just from their dorm, greeted him and seemed to want to make plans. Not that Jean had been spying on Eren at the union coffee shop or anything. He’d just happened to notice how Eren’s electric green eyes and flash of white teeth on tanned skin seemed to seduce every student on campus, guy or girl. Eren often invited people to ask about his prosthetic leg, and he seemed entirely at ease with it.

On move-in day, as Jean unpacked alone, Eren offered to help, which lasted all of two minutes before Jean had reached his limit of Eren going through his stuff. What there was of it anyway—Jean didn’t have much. Jean had wanted to politely decline Eren’s offer in the first place, but he’d gotten tongue tied and ended up nodding shyly. Eren had proceeded to tell Jean how he should join him and his friends for dinner and said Jean could talk to him about adjusting to school and the new space. Eren remembered how intimidating it was for him three years ago. Psh. Yeah, Jean doubted it. 

Now, Eren kept close to the wall as he rolled toward Jean to stay out of the way of oncoming students in the busy campus foot traffic. 

Jean resolutely looked straight ahead and not at Eren.

“Hey,” Eren said, coming to a stop and flipping on his brakes. And he ended up saying it again louder to force Jean’s attention.

Jean reluctantly grunted a greeting in response.

“Want to go back together?” Eren asked. He kept his tone light, but the upbeat quality sounded forced.

Jean sighed airily and tipped his head back into the wall. “No, it’s fine, I’ll catch up.”

The interaction stalled, but Eren didn’t move. “Could you at least look at me when I talk to you?” Eren finally snapped, the irritation clear in his voice.

Jean looked up and over, but only out of surprise. It was the first time he’d ever heard Eren sound angry (save for a shouting match in a game of charades gone wrong that he’d overheard from the other side of the floor one night). 

Caught off guard, Jean gave a startled look. Eventually, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, looked from Eren’s face to the ground and said "sorry." He continued, confessing quietly, “I didn’t mean to be an ass, I’m just having a bad day.”

“I can see that,” Eren said gently, “so let me help you.”

Jean visibly rankled at that, immediately feeling defensive. He was entirely ready to refuse Eren’s help when Eren commanded more than said: “I’m giving you a lift back, come on.”

“Um, excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Eren gestured to his lap. “Get on.”

Jean noticed Eren was missing his prosthetic today, hence the wheelchair. “Uh,” he stalled.

“Seriously, I’ve been behind you for like twenty minutes, we’re going back to Sina together.”

“You were following me?!”

“Well, I wasn’t just gonna let you pass out.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Oh my god,” Eren groaned. “Are you serious with this shit? I’ve been trying really hard to be nice to you and help you adjust, and I’m kind of starting to fucking lose it, okay?” 

Eren blew out a rush of air and touched his index finger and thumb to his brow in exasperation before he regained his composure and reached his hands down to help Jean up.

Wow. Jean was stunned. So he was really starting to annoy this guy, huh? His RA. Mr. Wonderful. Right. Of course. Jean could understand that. He’d been nothing but a dick all week after all. And Jean sometimes had the gall to wonder why he didn’t have any friends. Sighing, Jean’s voice was small when he said to Eren, “Sorry for being rude and all that shit.” Jean paused to lick his lips, “I think I end up being rude even when I’m not trying to be, I just— don’t really feel comfortable around you and your friends.” Jean looked up at Eren for the last part.

“I can tell, and I’m sorry about that, but would you please just let me get you back to your room anyway? Please?” Eren added again.

Jean felt the embarrassment wash over him at what he was about to agree to, but Eren was right, he couldn’t safely make it back to Sina on his own. Jean nodded. He was mortified and aware of everyone who could see them, but he stretched his left arm up toward Eren. Jean tried his best not to be dead weight as he used his left hand on Eren’s shoulder for leverage to pull himself up. 

It was probably generous to say Jean helped at all. It was more like Eren used his well-built upper body to all but lift Jean off the ground and into his lap. Jean could tell they got a few stares, but Eren seemed oblivious to the onlookers.

Eren switched off his brakes and started rolling them through the throngs of students, and Jean could feel the humiliation steadily setting in. And fuck was he humiliated. He felt miserable. It was just another day that he felt he was defeated by his physical limitations. Jean was used to receiving help from others. He had to be. But he always felt ashamed for needing it. 

When they arrived in front of Sina, Eren insisted on taking Jean to his door, but Jean wouldn’t let him. Jean made his way back to the safety and privacy of his dorm room before he collapsed on his bed and broke down. He let the hot tears fall, not bothering to stop the wave of despair that came over him. Jean cried because he hadn’t had someone to count on for years, and he missed that. He missed having a friend to confide in, and he didn’t know the first thing he could do to find one. He cried because he had been so eager to leave his latest foster home when he aged out, but it was dawning on him that his new independence hadn’t magically brought him the better future he’d always dreamed about. Jean hated his pathetic body, and his miserable attitude, and overall just himself.

\--

Eren decided he would do one lap around the floor before checking to make sure that Jean had gotten back to his room safely. If Eren was being honest, he’d been immediately attracted to Jean. What could he do? The kid was hot and exactly his type. Eren usually had no qualms about flirting with guys he started to crush on. But something about Jean’s shifting eyes and timid gestures made Eren sure he wanted to be careful with him and gain his trust somehow. 

So what if they were probably about the same age. Jean felt younger to Eren in one of those undefinable ways, and Eren (as a good RA of course, and only that) felt the need to look out for Jean. The kid was clearly worn out, lonely, and having a rough transition to Mount Jinae. Jean’s social skills could probably use some work, too, Eren thought, but Jean would have to actually be okay with being around people to address that, and he’d hardly come out of his room since moving in. 

Eren actually felt guilty about how much he wanted to be the one to help Jean come out of his shell. He wanted it to be him and only him that was able to break through Jean’s walls and help him feel at home. Eren had even taken to daydreaming about it, and that was a bit concerning because Eren took his job seriously, and he was usually professional enough not to get off to it.


	2. Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there’s not a chapter 3 yet, but, when there is, you can probably skip right there to get to the more, ahem, intimate stuff. The good stuff? Anyways, I’ll let you know.

Jean felt restless the next evening. After he’d showered and put on sweats, he found it difficult to either put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard to get started on any of his homework. He read the notes sent to him from his professors and student note-takers and was grateful that they were understandable and comprehensive. Back at the community college, no one had ever volunteered to take Jean’s notes, so he usually ended up stuck with nothing but the professors’ powerpoints, which could be vague to say the least. He thought maybe students got paid to share their notes here, but he wasn’t sure.

Jean, to even his own surprise, was a good student. He hadn’t always cared about every topic discussed in school, but most of the time he saw learning—history, art, science, languages, whatever—as an escape from his reality: disinterested foster parents who’d taken way too many kids into their tiny, crumbling city bungalow. Jean thought they’d done it for the tax benefits, or maybe it was the perceived karma points, or some other mystery reason Jean still couldn’t figure out because they certainly didn’t have an interest in the kids they housed. The teenagers were left to fend for themselves entirely. Granted, the very young children demanded a lot of attention from their caregivers—understandably so—and there were always so many of them. Ironically, for feeling like such a spectacle in public, Jean mused about just how easily he seemed to go unnoticed.

The foster sibling that was Jean's age was decidedly _not_ friendly. In fact, he seemed utterly disgusted by Jean and having to share a room with him. Though, as far as foster homes went, Jean supposed he’d seen worse. For his teen years, he’d at least had a place to sleep, and the social workers from the state agency always made sure he had enough clothes, supplies, and regular doctor visits.

What Jean hadn’t had was someone he could call a friend. He couldn’t remember the last time he had friends beyond just acquaintances. His foster brother, Marco, from early middle school had been a good friend, but they hadn’t kept in touch. Marco's family had had a new baby, and off Jean went to a couple other group homes and foster placements, finally ending up where he would stay for the majority of high school and start of college.

Jean reflected with a cringe on how a small group of girls in high school would sometimes eat lunch with him. They were cool enough, but Jean had overheard their conversations in the halls—with their real friends and with their boyfriends—often enough to know that they “felt sorry for him” and only “thought they should all be nice” by not excluding the disabled kid. If they’d actually become decent friends maybe Jean could have forgiven beginnings like that, but, in reality, those girls, like Mikasa for instance, had just used Jean to feel better about themselves. They’d talk about the weather or school or other mundane things, but it seemed to Jean that they were clearly being patronizing, that they didn’t even see him as a person. Pity didn’t look good on most, not even Mikasa. 

Many of the guys at his school had flat out ridiculed him. At least they’d had the kind-of-decency not to do it to his face but from a distance as he was limping out of class early to get a head start on his next destination or when he was sitting on the far side of the bleachers reading a book during PE. Jean was a loner to say the least. In high school, he thought he hated it the most when a particularly hot guy opened his mouth and something cruel came out.

Lately, Jean found it easier to just chat with friends online. He’d gotten his laptop senior year of high school from an exceptionally kind social worker who was planning on getting herself a new one, and that laptop had become his safe haven. But he felt doubt creep into the back of his mind about his online friendships sometimes. He was the type of person to wonder if he probably cared more about a relationship than the friend did.

Now, with the minutes ticking by of Jean restlessly cycling through his thoughts and feeling like he was going to explode from deliberately not thinking about a certain someone—cough Eren Jaeger—and how he’d been actually sitting across his hot, toned RA’s goddamn fucking _lap_ , Jean decided to do something he normally wouldn’t: go for a walk. 

\--

Eren was mostly goofing off under the guise of studying in the small university coffee shop when the world yet again seemed to stop. Jean walked in. Or—he did the kind of walking that he could. Something that Eren knew he shouldn’t find charming because obviously Jean was just doing his best, but maybe that’s why Eren found it attractive? So Eren liked Jean’s walk, and maybe that made him a weirdo or a bad person, but if that was the case then so be it. Plus, Eren sort of understood. He hadn’t been the smoothest walker when he was still getting used to his leg being gone.

Eren, Sasha, and Connie were riling up Armin by coming up with ridiculous ways they claimed they were definitely going to cheat on their upcoming poli-sci exam. It might have taken Sasha claiming she would write answers on the inside of a Fritos bag to get Armin to finally laugh out loud. 

Eren couldn’t be bothered to review his notes anymore or work on his essay, so he looked up to drink in the sight of Jean. The coffee shop was built into the union’s study space, which was scattered with beat-up couches, tables, and lamps that all looked like they belonged to a long gone decade. The lamps gave off warm light that bounced off the wood tables and wood-paneled walls. 

Damn, Jean looked cute in his lounge clothes. He was wearing a black hoodie over tight-ish gray joggers. His clearly 21st century attire (complete with headphones around his neck) adorably clashed with the outdated decor, creating what looked like a purposely anachronistic art piece. 

Jean’s hair was all tousled, maybe from the breeze outside. 

Eren bit his lower lip and then stuck the end of his pen in his mouth to hide it. Jean finally turned to look at him, seeming to easily find his eyes among the other people going about their business in the café. 

\--

Jean had hoped for this. He’d been avoiding it. He felt his face heat up and his heart race with uncertainty. With excitement. Eren was definitely looking right at him, and Jean had just frozen in place. A guy digging in his backpack for his wallet bumped into him, jolting him. 

“Sorry,” the guy said, “You in line?” Jean shook his head no.

Then, feeling embarrassed and sure he shouldn’t have left his room at all, he saw Eren get up.

“Hey Jean,” Eren said, “I was wondering, could you go settle a debate about whether zebra cakes are better than Hostess cupcakes? I gotta grab something.” And then he slipped away.

Jean felt enough tension escape him that he could laugh slightly, and he approached Eren’s table to friendly faces arguing about exactly that.

Jean nervously settled in by the group, and they allowed him to just listen as he got comfortable. Soon, Eren returned carrying two hot cocoas and a warm chocolate chip cookie that he ripped in half for Jean. Jean accepted the cookie and the cocoa, feeling like he was having the most bizarre but also the nicest night he’d had in a long time, maybe ever. Jean continued to not talk, and he was grateful that everyone seemed fine with that and didn’t ask the typical questions, “Are you a freshman?” “What’s your major?” and on and on. 

Armin left first to go get some rest. Eventually, Connie and Sasha chased each other out giggling. Apparently their third apartment roommate had texted that she would dump their laundry out on the curb if they didn’t come take it out of the dryer that instant. (And let’s be real, it had probably been in there for days. Jean could only imagine.) And that just left Eren and Jean.

Eren downed the last of his drink, tipping his head back, eyes closed. Jean watched Eren’s Adam’s apple bob as he did so. 

Eren placed his mug down, “Ready to go?” 

Jean nodded.

\--

Eren was conscious of his pace while walking with Jean, trying to find a rhythm that would neither rush Jean nor make it seem like Eren was being overly slow in a way that was inconvenient. Because it wasn’t inconvenient. At all. Eren really wanted to be right where he was right now, walking home with Jean.

“So,” Eren said into the silence. And Eren was feeling pretty good about all this, but he still didn’t want to mess it up as Jean was finally responding to him. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Yeah.” Jean’s mouth quirked up slightly in a self-conscious smile, and Eren felt his chest tighten at the sight. Smiles from Jean were rare and something to hold onto, Eren somehow knew this already.

“How are things going?” A big question, but Eren hoped Jean would answer it for him. “Be honest.”

Jean seemed to need some time to think, but, little by little, he began to share more details about what his week had been like. He complained about some of the more inaccessible places on campus, and one professor had suggested Jean not take his class because it would be academically rigorous. Academically, not physically. And shit, Eren had been there before too. 

Jean was grateful someone showed him how to use the Keurig in the floor lounge because he was pretty dependent on coffee in the mornings. It was mostly small talk, and Jean still seemed guarded, but, before Eren knew it, they’d spent probably half an hour walking through the pleasantly crisp night air and talking. 

Eren could relate to a lot of what Jean had said in their conversation about having well-meaning people—Eren’s mom being the main person in his life—act like he was helpless and assume what he wanted or what he could handle. Eren decided to tell Jean how he had lost his leg—to bone cancer—because he genuinely wanted Jean to know and also because he never liked it to be a secret or something people wondered about anyway. That part of his life was a big part of his larger story and who he had become, and he embraced it.

They walked, and Jean slowed a bit more with time, fatiguing. Soon, they were approaching Sina again, though. Eren was feeling so high on their interaction that he hadn’t even noticed when or how Jean’s demeanor had changed. It was just apparent when they arrived in the doorway that Jean was near tears and desperate to get away from Eren and back to his own room.

Eren tried not to take it personally, understanding that everything that had happened was probably a lot for Jean. But concern still needled at him as he watched Jean’s eyebrows knit together in a hurried goodbye. Eren would be thinking about this for a long time: how much he wanted to comfort Jean and how much he wanted to kiss this cute, shy transfer student who had some edge and some bite to him. Who was earnest and thought deeply. And who was still mostly a mystery to Eren if he was really being honest with himself.


	3. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this fic was a tease until now
> 
> Sick-fic chapter coming next :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Where are those secrets now_   
>  _That you’re too scared to tell?_

Jean couldn’t even berate himself for having a crush on a hot boy—a hot, way-out-of-his-league kind of boy—like he normally would because Eren was just that perfect. Just that obvious a choice for a lost and lonely soul like Jean to cling to. Eren was fiery and passionate and a go-getter, and he was giving an awful lot of attention to Jean, which was starting to give Jean ideas… What would it be like to talk until dawn, to drift off to sleep in Eren’s arms, to share coffee in bed, to- 

Oh no.

This. Was. Not. Happening.

Except it was. It always did. Jean had grown accustomed to having to fake what little confidence he had. To having to fake being “fine” in class, on the bus, or in the dining hall until the second he could get away. He’d had a lifetime of practice keeping his face smooth and expressionless, holding back his wince if he couldn’t find some privacy before an odor of piss threatened to give him away. All his life, he’d managed, but his bladder issues—his incontinence—was not something that ever left his mind fully. How could it?

He and Eren were really hitting it off, but as his wetting subsided, all Jean could think about was the emerging wet feeling between his legs and the certainty of a leak. The familiar chafing of the papery cheap—and now soaked—disposable underwear became more pronounced with each step. The skin of his crotch and ass burned with untreated rash, and now his face, too, was aflame with humiliation. He couldn’t believe Eren was still wishing him a good night like everything was normal, like Jean was normal, which he very clearly wasn’t and never would be.

When they reached the doors of Sina, Jean’s tears were threatening to spill over, but Eren, after giving a shocked look of concern, schooled his features into nonchalance. He was learning. He held the door open for Jean and casually said he’d see him again. At the last second, Eren said, “And Jean, you can talk to me about anything. I mean that.”

Jean mumbled his goodnight and a thank you before dragging his miserable body into his own space. “Yeah, thanks, Eren,” Jean whispered to himself, “but I don’t think I can talk to you about this.”

It was possible that Jean was not giving Eren enough credit. Eren very likely would be understanding. Would offer to help even. But wouldn’t that just make it worse? To be pitied by his crush? So then Eren could have real conversations and go on dates with people on his own level, but Jean would always just be some charity case to him. Someone infantile Eren felt like he had to look after. Ugh.

Jean did not like this chore. Everything about it was hard. He felt less than human. Degraded, like he’d been forced to make a mess on himself, even though he hadn’t wanted to do it and it wasn’t his fault. And most people who had known his secret—foster parents and siblings, doctors he’d had to meet with, even staff at school who had been privy to the information for one reason or another—all had reinforced that thought, that he was dirty or pathetic, rather than telling him otherwise. 

Eren saw him as a person. He gave him a night with the comfort of friends. It sounds stupid, but Jean had actually felt like a real college student for tonight: hanging out with friends on a weekday, walking back late to the dorms, having a conversation he would have liked to never end. Jean had been seen and heard today. He hardly ever felt that way.

...And so it began. Jean, though he’d last showered only hours ago, started the shower in his dinky private bathroom yet again and stripped. His shirt he could wear again, so he left that and his sling on his bed. His pants were not salvageable, so into the hamper they went. (He hadn't bothered wearing boxers today because why kid himself, right?) Lastly, he ripped the pull-up off of himself angrily, making use of its tearaway sides, and threw it in the covered garbage can making sure to slam the lid. 

At night, Jean wore a real diaper and slept on an absorbent pad. It was the only way to prevent leaks onto his sheets and clothes, and sometimes even that wasn’t enough. Normally, it was just a fact of his life, but, today, it was an especially hard pill to swallow. Because he thought of Eren and how his greatest fantasy was to bring Eren back to his bed someday. To kiss him, maybe go...further, to have Eren spend the night… And Jean felt the bottom drop out of his heart at the reality that that dream would never come true.

\--

In the pitch dark of his room, feeling shameless for the moment, Eren laid and touched himself. He writhed on top of his comforter, rolling from his back to his side, then back again. He had seen it. Fuuuuck. Eren sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, tilting his head back in ecstasy at the feeling in his gut, parting his lips with new gasps. The butterflies spiked in his stomach for every stroke of his cock. In a minute, he would acknowledge what a creep he was being, but for now he focused on the memory of Jean’s gorgeous honey-colored eyes, wide and teary as they were. The ruffled hair. His cute, prominent collar bones and sharp shoulders in his soft cotton sweatshirt and, of course, his diaper. Pull-up. Whatever it was. The unmistakable high waistband of soft tissue-papery material. The soft mesh against Jean’s skin had looked so inviting to touch. 

The waistband of the pull-up had to rise close to Jean's belly button (the thought turned Eren on), and it showed above Jean’s sweatpants when Jean had gotten fidgety at the Sina entrance. Fuck. Eren hadn’t realized at first that Jean had wet himself but to think about it again and again—that Jean had wet himself right in front of him—was keeping Eren so hard. In those fast moments of Jean’s face heating up in mortification and the two of them saying goodnight, Eren had barely managed to put two and two together. 

Eren should have told him that it was okay, to please not be upset. But everything had unfolded so quickly (it really was not the scenario Eren was expecting), and, finally, Eren wimped out of directly acknowledging what had happened because he was afraid of making the situation worse for Jean instead of better.

God, Eren wanted to take Jean. In any way, shape, or form he would let him. Eren got off on the idea of making Jean lose control, making him feel good in a way he’s never felt before. The images gave way to Eren’s release, and, to combat his shame over this— _because, holy shit, what was wrong with him?_ —Eren went to sleep with the resolution to see Jean everyday, to get as close as he could. Wrapped up in thoughts of Jean and how cute he was, Eren may have even forgotten why he felt like he should be ashamed of being attracted to Jean's undergarments in the first place.


	4. Hush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this came from.
> 
> Okay, sick-fic with omorashi (which was my idea from the beginning) NEXT chapter. For sure. I swear.

Eren waited for Jean at their usual spot. When Jean’s class got out, they’d get a ride back in the van and then have dinner together. Some of their friends (or as Jean liked to stubbornly say, “Eren’s friends”) would probably find them and join them too. 

After just a few minutes of scrolling on his phone, a familiar blond head appeared beside Eren. Eren dropped his phone into his pocket and smiled, reaching out to ruffle Jean’s hair, as was becoming their custom. Jean put on his obligatory scoff, but the telltale blush was climbing up his neck and warming his cheeks. This made Eren very proud of himself. When it came to physical touch, Eren had been sure Jean would be skittish at first, which is probably why the first time Eren initiated contact—by tenderly pushing Jean’s hair off his forehead—it had been a complete accident. Eren thought he may have been trying to get Jean to look him in the eye at the time, but he couldn’t remember for sure. Luckily, Eren could not have been more wrong about how Jean would respond to affection. Jean loved it, drank it up even, and Eren did not fail to notice how, when they were somewhere private enough, Jean liked to lay his head on Eren’s shoulder. He’d use an excuse like needing to lean in to get a better look at Eren’s laptop, then he’d keep his face pressed to Eren for as long as he could get away with. 

As they got on their way to dinner, Eren asked Jean lots of questions about his latest discussion. Eren always liked to hear Jean’s thoughts on his classes. He was a literature major, which was so different from Eren’s own business major. Honestly, Eren used to wish he could be that sensitive hipster type who liked to read classic novels and could pull off a man-bun. When he was sick and laid up in the hospital for long stretches—several weeks sometimes—he would get so bored. He had tried to read those long, literary books from the best-seller lists along with the classics for his high school classes, but, most of the time, he would just get into rereading his favorite comic books and watching his favorite TV shows and movies all over again. 

Actually, if he was lucky during those times, he could get away with sleeping so much that he forgot where he was entirely along with the fact that his pain was so bad he could hardly move. Eren was so glad that he didn’t have to deal with that anymore. Being stuck in bed on those long days with agony in his bones may have been the worst part of it all in Eren’s memory. He’d long since gotten back to his pre-cancer form, and, between his workouts and pick up games of wheelchair basketball, he rarely took his health or strength for granted.

Now, with the days already getting short and the winter closing in on his first semester of senior year, Eren hung out with Jean at least a few days a week, usually more. Jean still needed his space sometimes, and Eren totally got that, but when Jean would tentatively ask if he was taking up too much of Eren’s time or if Eren needed to be somewhere else, Eren always reassured him. There was no one he’d rather be with.

It was getting colder too, of course, and Jean wore a cargo jacket that Eren had given him when he realized that Jean had been planning to make it through the winter with nothing but hoodies. 

Eren worried about Jean sometimes. (Read: all the time). There was still so much about him that he didn’t know. Jean never mentioned parents or family, and Eren eventually figured out that that was because he didn’t have any. He’d said something about growing up in foster care exactly once by Eren’s count. And when he had, a lot suddenly made sense: the lack of visitors, his apparent money troubles, how he still refused to trust anyone besides Eren...

\--

At their usual table in the sprawling dining hall, Eren chatted with Reiner, who was forever trying to convince him to play for the school’s official wheelchair basketball team. Jean had just gotten up to find something for dessert. 

To be fair, Eren was well aware that he didn’t have to baby Jean, but, still, he usually carried Jean’s dinner to their table, and, even now, Eren subtly kept an eye on him from across the room. 

In the next moment, Eren was grateful that he’d been watching, but it was unlikely that a rage so powerful had ever consumed him in his life.

Jean did nothing wrong. Eren had seen how there were times that Jean could lose his grip on a cup and spill it, how, on certain days, he would need help getting food onto his plate because his coordination was just not working for him. Now, though, Eren saw Jean just minding his own business, concentrating to keep his bowl of cereal steady. And then—too fast to do anything but in slow motion all at the same time—one guy motioned to his friend to “watch this,” and then he tripped Jean, sending him and all the milk in his Lucky Charms flying. Jean fell face first onto the floor (he wasn’t exactly well equipped to break his fall), and people turned to stare at the commotion.

Eren was there in a heartbeat, but his mind was in a blind, white hot rage. He couldn’t keep his voice down. He stopped just short of punching the guy’s teeth out, “What the fuck was that?!” he screamed, getting in the guy’s face. 

He and his friend both stepped back. “Whoa, calm down. He just fell. Jesus.” 

“Is that seriously what you’re going to tell me?”

From behind him, Eren heard Jean murmur something. He must have gotten up then. “Eren, it’s fine, let’s just go.”

Eren didn’t turn from his standoff with the pricks who thought it was funny to fuck with a kid who couldn’t fucking fight back.

Jean sighed deeply, and Eren could picture the look of pure exhaustion on his face perfectly even though he had yet to turn around. After several beats, Eren thought he’d break off his glare, though he was still mad as hell. But just as he was about to turn and walk away without so much as shoving the goddamn asshole who did it, his lackey piped up, “I always wondered why that retard was in our school anyway.” 

And Eren fucking lost it. He pushed the first guy aside and socked the fucker who said that in his gut so hard he collapsed to the floor gasping for air. Even as a security guard rushed toward them, Eren still turned and roughly shoved the first dickhead for what little satisfaction it was worth. Then he backed off.

Thankfully, everyone insisted on telling security that the altercation was over, and Eren felt a rush of gratitude when a girl who saw the whole thing started to explain what really happened. It was then, in the rush and confusion, that Eren was able to put his arm around Jean’s shoulders and lead them both outside.

\-- 

“You could’ve gone to jail for that,” Jean said.

The walk back to Jean’s room had let a little bit of the shock wear off, and Jean placed his head in Eren’s lap. They lounged on Jean’s bed, which he’d turned into a dim and private alcove by hanging a sheet from the unused top bunk and taping Christmas lights up to the interior wall. 

Eren ran his hand through Jean’s soft hair. 

He was still a little shaky, still agitated. He felt the aftershocks of adrenaline course through his veins, but he willed himself to calm down, and he could feel the tension fading little by little, giving way to the tiredness that you can only feel after getting that angry. 

For once, Jean’s eyes didn’t look troubled as he looked up at Eren. In fact, Eren could swear Jean looked like he was close to grinning. 

Feeling weirdly buzzed, Eren mirrored Jean’s smile. “What?” he asked, huffing out a laugh. He cupped the start of a bruise on Jean’s right cheekbone, stroking it softly with his thumb.

Jean reached across his body to cover Eren’s hand with his own good hand. “Nothing. That was just cool of you. I don’t know.”

Eren laughed. After a moment, though, he released a frustrated noise and shook his head. “Auhhhgh. I wanted to do a lot more to those motherfuckers.”

Jean hummed. “What you did was enough.”

“It wasn’t but…” Eren sighed, trailing off. After a moment of quiet thought, he looked down and said to Jean, “You were really strong though.”

Jean didn’t waste any time turning pink. “What?” he squeaked.

Eren shook his head, smiling. “You’re strong, Jean. Don’t you know that?”

At that, Jean looked a lot more like the Jean Eren was used to: flustered, blushing, and allergic to eye contact.

Eren, for whatever reason, felt possessed to keep going. “Jean, you are. You’re strong and beautiful. I’ll keep telling you that. You deserve to hear it.”

Jean furrowed his brow and squeezed his eyes shut. He shook his head in tiny motions. 

“Hey..”

Tears leaked out from the corners of Jean’s eyes and slid down his face elegantly. He was quickly getting overwhelmed. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Eren wiped his tears, waiting several moments. 

Jean opened his eyes. “Eren I…”

Eren continued to stroke Jean’s face, waiting patiently. When Jean didn’t say anything, Eren began to slowly lean down.

The distance between them was closed with no hurry. 

Eren softly held Jean’s head in his hands, soaking in the heat of Jean’s skin and the trust in his wide golden eyes, and in the longest moment, Eren pushed his lips gently and firmly to Jean’s in a lingering first kiss.


	5. Kiss and Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I even have to say what's coming _next_ chapter? :P

Jean let his eyes slide closed and matched the pressure of Eren’s lips with his own, pushing towards him, his only thought: _be close to Eren_. Eren responded by gathering Jean closer and deepening their kiss. 

\--

An hour later, Eren flicked an almond at the side of Jean’s head. They were both failing spectacularly at pretending to be interested in a documentary Eren had to watch for class, and Jean had been peeking at Eren constantly since their kiss, making Eren feel like he must be a whole lot more interesting to look at than the movie. Jean wasn't even subtle about it; it was pretty adorable. “Psst." 

"What?" Jean turned his head.

"Stop looking at me like you’re so impressed," Eren said smiling smugly, teasing. "Did you expect me to be a shitty kisser or something?" 

Jean looked caught off guard for a second, but he narrowed his eyes and shot back, “Do you ever stop eating?” He took an almond from Eren’s bag.

Eren flexed his bicep and winked. “I need the protein.” Jean’s answering eye roll was all part of their game. Eren popped another one in his mouth and continued unfazed. “C’mon, seriously, are you surprised you liked it?”

"No."

"Then what?"

Some discomfort flashed across Jean’s face, but he dropped all pretenses and looked at Eren soberly, “That was my first kiss.” 

He flicked his eyes away then, nervous for Eren’s reaction. 

The next thing he knew, Eren had placed the laptop aside and his lips were colliding with Jean’s once again, hungry and fierce. Jean closed his eyes and wrapped his left arm around Eren, getting overwhelmed again with Eren’s presence, with his scent and the soft texture of his worn t-shirt, with the feel of his body weight and the hardness of his leanly sculpted pecs and shoulders, with how the force of Eren’s moving lips contrasted with the way he held his body carefully over Jean’s, leaning into him just enough. The way Eren was kissing him, Jean hoped that he’d never stop, and, as for himself, he was pretty sure that what he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm as he kissed back for all he was worth and hummed with pleasure when Eren did something he liked. 

Eren broke away to take a breath, and Jean took in his dilated pupils and reddened, kissed-out lips. _Do I look like that too?_ he wondered. Eren shifted then to straddle Jean. He let his prosthetic knee bend against the bed with well-practiced motions and didn’t miss a beat in reaching for Jean again. 

But, this time, as Eren kissed him, Jean became aware of how close Eren’s hips were hovering above his own and sliding forward in rhythm with his kisses. Eren’s body brushed against Jean’s torso, pressing lower, nearing Jean’s hips and what was...below. Jean was suddenly aware of just how hard he was, which—Eren must be too, right?—but, where he’d just a moment ago felt incredibly turned on, Jean was now starting to feel a little sick. 

He thought of just how strange the texture of what he was wearing might feel to Eren if Eren let his body weight sink down just a tiny bit further, and, holy hell, god forbid there’d be a sound. 

Jean thought he heard his pull-up crinkling, even though he knew he probably hadn’t, and his heartbeat skyrocketed, his pulse pounding in his veins heatedly—and not in the fun way. Jean could feel embarrassment beginning to course through him, and his mind urged him, strongly, to send Eren away—to not let him see him this way. Jean was at a loss, unable to focus on kissing anymore. Then, he felt Eren’s fingertips brush up the skin of his side, underneath his shirt, about to lift it—“Wait!”

Eren stopped immediately. 

“Are you okay?” Eren’s eyes filled with concern, scanning Jean’s body to see if his position was alright, to check if his right arm was folded awkwardly or anything.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Jean managed a little smile. “I’m good. I’m,” he breathed, “really good actually. I swear. I just wondered if we could take a break for a second.”

“Of course.” Eren sat up, still keeping an eye on him. He uncapped a nearby water bottle and took a drink before handing it to Jean. As he caught his breath, Eren began to form an idea about what was upsetting Jean, and he wondered if what he thought was going on in Jean’s head was accurate. Eren rarely got official confirmation from Jean, but, over the months, he felt like he’d gotten pretty good at reading the other boy. It broke his heart a little bit, but Eren thought maybe he’d forced enough self-acceptance onto Jean for one evening. He smiled wryly to himself. “Get through the rest of this thing?” he asked Jean, motioning towards the paused screen of the laptop. Jean nodded.

Before Eren left, he brought Jean an ice pack for the nasty bruise forming around his eye. He absently pulled Jean’s blankets up around him as he and Jean tried to get the ice pack balanced on Jean’s face. Jean let out a breathy laugh at Eren’s behavior, “I’m not going to bed yet.”

Eren tried to cover for himself while Jean seemed baffled if a little amused. “Whatever...just, sleep good, alright?”

“Okay.” Jean was still giving Eren a dumbfounded look.

“Shut up. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without thinking, Eren leaned down to kiss Jean on the forehead. Then he left. 

\--

“And did you confirm that you guys are dating?”

“Well, no.”

Armin raised an eyebrow at Eren looking unimpressed. 

“No, no. Look, I know that’s not why he’s been avoiding me.”

Armin’s face said _explain_.

“He wants to be together.” Eren countered Armin’s look with a look of his own, “And that’s not me being full of myself!—I actually just know him well, and I know that he likes me, and things were— _are_ —going really good. It’s just, I also know that he doesn’t think he deserves to have what he wants. And he walks in the other direction of a lot of things that he wants, and...I think that includes me right now.” 

Armin, ever the patient listener, gave Eren space to keep going.

“I—I think he’s just scared. And avoidant. And, there’s this other thing. I think it, in part, makes intimacy a little different for him.”

“Moreso than never having secure attachments to parents or other people in his life?” 

Armin wasn’t being judgmental in the slightest when he said that, he was just being Armin: thoughtful about every aspect of a situation. With Armin, confidentiality was a given, and Eren knew he would never look at Jean differently for anything he’d been through. Or Eren for that matter.

Eren didn’t really know how to respond to Armin’s question. They were in the privacy of Armin’s room, though, so Eren figured he could talk openly about what was going on and get Armin’s perspective on it.

“Uh, this is more of a physical thing rather than mental. But I guess it affects how he feels about being close to someone too. It kind of affects everything.”

Eren thought he saw some understanding dawn on Armin’s face when he’d said ‘physical,’ but he knew he’d have to be more specific eventually. Armin wasn’t a mind-reader even if Eren forgot that sometimes.

“‘Physical’ like he has trouble getting an erection?” Armin hedged.

Oh. Eren hadn’t thought about that. “No? I don’t think so. I—that actually never crossed my mind, but, I think I’ve seen his pants tent before? If that’s okay to say…” Eren’s voice reached an embarrassingly high pitch at the end of his sentence. God, this was Armin. It wasn’t like he was talking to his grandma about sex or anything. Would Eren even be able to tell through his clothes if Jean had had an erection? He had no idea. 

Eren inhaled deeply and then spoke quickly all in one breath: “I don’t think he wants me to know he wears diapers, but I already know, and obviously it’s not a problem for me.”

Armin regarded Eren, just nodding supportively. Eren knew Armin could see plain as day on his face that he actually found it a huge turn-on, but he mercifully didn’t press Eren to delve any further. Eren doubted Armin really cared to know anyway, and clearly Armin’s advice on the matter would be that Eren should probably use those great communication skills of his to go tell Jean how helplessly into him he was. 

Eren felt some measure of relief. He and Armin put on hoodies and running shoes to go jogging in. As they were walking out the door, Armin fulfilled his Armin duties and said, “So...maybe you should tell him what you just told me?”

_Yeah. Why is it that that seems a lot easier said than done?_


End file.
